


You Save Everyone, But Who Saves You?

by spacetrek



Category: Batman - All Media Types, DCU (Comics), Justice League - All Media Types, Superman - All Media Types
Genre: 5 Things, Gen, i didn't write one word of this before 9pm and it shows, i hope someday to love something as purely as clark kent loves everything, me? using a different writing style for every single pov? it's more likely than you think
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-03-18
Updated: 2018-03-18
Packaged: 2019-04-03 22:34:18
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,168
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14006283
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/spacetrek/pseuds/spacetrek
Summary: Five times Clark was there for someone and one time someone was there for him.





	You Save Everyone, But Who Saves You?

** 1\. Barry **

Barry Allen has always been amused by the phrase “my life flashed before my eyes”.  His life is, as a general rule, always flashing before his eyes.  A solid 90% of his day gets lived at top speed.

 

Now, though, it suddenly makes sense.  As the roof falls in, he remembers everything he’s ever done, everyone he's ever loved, oh God, Bart, Iris–

 

His ears are ringing.  The afterlife is apparently blurry, brightly colored, and windy.  And his leg still hurts.  Probably punishment for stealing that donut when he was twelve.

 

“Barry?  Are you all right?”

 

If Superman is in the afterlife, it's probably a good place.  Unless–

 

“I’m not dead?”  Way to go, Barry.  Genius.  He squints against the light.  Superman looks pretty alive to him.  And his leg really does hurt.  

 

“Nope.”  Clark’s eyes unfocus the way they do when he uses his x-ray vision.  “You’re pretty banged up, though.  That leg looks nasty.  What happened?”

 

“Mirror Master.  He distracted me with the civilians and knocked half the roof down on my leg.  Nobody else got hurt, though.”  Barry shifts a little, trying to get comfortable.  Clark lets him.  “I threw a chunk of rebar at him.  Hope he wakes up with a headache.”

 

“Harsh.”

 

“He deserves it.”  Barry digs his phone out of his pocket and looks at the screen.  Cracked.  Iris is going to kill him.

 

“Here.”  Clark offers his own phone.  Barry has no idea where he keeps that phone, but he's not going to ask. Not today, at least.

 

“Thanks.” 

 

Iris picks up on the second ring.  “Clark?  What is it, is Barry–"

 

“Hey honey, it’s me.”  Barry ignores Clark’s grin.  “I broke my leg.”

 

 

** 2\. Dick **

“I love Bruce – really, I do – but he is the stubbornest bastard on this planet.  And I’ve met a lot of them.”  Dick paces Clark’s tiny living room; five strides one way, five strides the other.  He really wants to tear his hair out, but it would hurt and he just got it the length he wants.  It’d be wasted on Bruce anyway.

 

“I hope you don’t expect me to disagree with you.”  Clark is sitting on his ratty sofa, hands wrapped around a mug of hot cocoa.  Dick’s is sitting on the coffee table getting cold.

 

“He’s just such an asshole.  He winds up in the hospital, nearly dies – flatlines on the table, in fact – and doesn’t even have the decency to let me know.  Doesn’t even text!  When was I gonna find out?  When they read the will?  And then when I _do_ find out – from Jason, no less – he has the gall to tell me I didn’t need to show up.”  Dick glances at the one other item of furniture in the room – a rickety wooden chair – decides not to, and flops on the floor.  He hopes there’s nothing living in the carpet.  “I don’t know who he thinks he is."

 

“Vengeance and the night, mostly.”

 

“Ha ha.”  It is kind of funny, though.  You either laugh or cry, with Bruce, and Dick’s never been a big fan of crying.  

 

“He doesn’t mean to shut you out, Dick.  Well,” Clark amends, “he kind of does sometimes, but it’s not what he wants.  He wants you to be safe and not worry.  He’s just awful at communicating that.”

 

“I know.”  And he does.  He really does.  He rolls over and gropes for his mug.  Clark helpfully pushes it closer.  “Thanks for letting me come over and throw a fit.  I know you’ve got better things to do.”

 

“Not really.”

 

And that was the thing about Clark – he always meant those kinds of things when he said them, and he always made you feel like the most important person in the world. Between that and the hot cocoa, Dick feels a little better.  Bruce would live to be an asshole another day, and maybe even long enough to finally figure out how to have a normal human conversation.  It’s a long shot, but Dick’s always been an optimist.

 

They sit in silence for a while, Dick studying the water stains on the ceiling.  He really hopes Clark and Lois figure out whatever they’ve got going on right now.  For a lot of reasons, honestly, but also so that Clark can move in with her.  It feels wrong that someone like Clark should be living in a dump like this.  “You still feel the same way about my offer of a room in Blüdhaven?”

 

“Afraid so.”  Clark smiles down at him.  “I’m rather fond of the place.”

 

“Sure.”  Dick sits up, struck with a thought.  “Have you ever considered inviting Bruce over?"

 

 

**3\. Diana**

Diana flings up a hand, greeting and acknowledgement.  “My thanks.”

 

“You didn’t think I’d let you have all the fun by yourself, did you?”  Clark tosses the twisted hunk of sparking metal that used to be a robot aside.  It slams into the half a robot that’s attempting to stand with no legs and they both go down in a heap.

 

“If it involved you minding your own business, then no.”  Diana frowns at a cut on her bicep.  Sword-wielding robots were odd, but not much of a problem until some low-level magician created an army of them and charmed them.  Said magician was now unconscious on the ground, likely regretting every decision that led him here.  Hopefully he would rethink his life choices.

 

“Are we talking about me or Batman?”

 

“Do you see Batman here?  I only see you.”

 

“That’s because he’s already interfering elsewhere.  Flash says he ran into him interrogating people in Central City.  Literally ran into him.  Said B wasn’t happy about it either.  Quote, ‘If you don’t hear from me within twenty-four hours check Bruce’s yard or the Cave,’ unquote.”

 

“Bruce shouldn't terrorize Flash.  It’s unnecessary."

 

“Bruce shouldn't do a lot of things, but that doesn’t stop him.”  Clark touches down beside her.  He nods at her arm.  “Nasty.”

 

“It will heal.  Batman aside, you aren’t really the interfering type when you don’t have to be.  What are you doing here?”

 

“Would you believe I was just passing by?”

 

“I would not.”

 

“That would be because I was not, in fact, just passing by.”  Clark chews the inside of his cheek – not so much a nervous gesture as a thoughtful one, in him.  “I was actually looking for you anyway, but the sword-bots were a nice touch.”

 

“Sword-bots?”

 

“If the shoe fits.”  He shrugs.  “I – I’ve just been worried about you.  You’ve been kind of quiet lately.”

 

Bruce would deflect; Wally would babble.  Diana does neither.  “I’ve been feeling a little homesick recently.  Tomorrow it will have been twenty years exactly since I saw my mother and my sisters.  I guess I’ve just been feeling it more strongly than usual.”

 

Diana doesn’t worry that Clark will take her homesickness as a slight against his adopted world.  He understands better than most how it feels to miss a home you will never see again.

 

Sure enough, he merely holds his arms out to her.  She leans into his embrace, tired and grateful.  She doesn’t have to be careful with her strength around him, and it feels good to hug someone as hard as she can.  He rests his chin on her shoulder, and there they stand, two immigrants clinging to each other for support in the battle-churned dust of the world they now call home.  

 

When he speaks again, his voice is soft.  “You don’t have to, and I don’t know if it will help, but you’re more than welcome to come back for dinner with Lois and me tonight.  It’s been a while, and she would love to see you.”

 

And this is the thing about him people so often miss.  They call him a hero because he can shatter planets and stand shoulder to shoulder with gods, but she knows that his heart is his true strength and his kindness his true weapon.  It takes real bravery to look at cruelty and offer your compassion before your fist.

 

She smiles.  “And I would love to see her.  I read the piece she wrote about corruption in large businesses.  I have a list of things I want to discuss with her about it.”

 

Clark snorts.  “That was, ah, a very fiery piece, even for Lois.”

 

“I liked it.  Especially the part about the 'systematic violence of the corporate conglomerate’.”

 

“She was particularly proud of that bit too, if I remember correctly.”  He gently disentangles himself from her, glancing with poorly feigned casualness at the cut on her arm.  “It’s stopped bleeding.”

 

“As I said – it will heal.”

 

He lifts into the air, grinning.  “I’ll race you.  First one there gets first shower.”

Diana laughs, feeling more alive than she has in days, her blood thrilling to the challenge and true companionship.  “I will leave you some hot water – I’m in a generous mood today."

 

 

**4\. A stranger**  

Ella runs blindly outside, slamming the door behind her.  It doesn't matter. Her parents won't hear.

 

Pain shudders up her leg as her bare foot strikes a stone.  Limping the rest of the way to the big tree at the edge of the yard, she draws her knees up to her chest and cries.  Her parents won’t hear this, either.  Nobody will.

 

“Excuse me?”

 

Her head jolts up, startled.  She hadn’t heard anyone approach.  She blinks tears from her eyes and freezes.

 

Superman is standing right there.  Oh he's a respectful distance away, but he is _right there_ , in her backyard.

 

“Sorry to startle you.  I was in the neighborhood and I heard a loud noise. I wanted to make sure everything was okay.  What’s your name?”

 

“I– Ella." 

 

“Ella.  Nice to meet you.”  He smiles down at her.

 

Ella hastily scrubs at her face.  She's an ugly cryer, always has been, and now Superman has to see her blotchy red cheeks and runny nose.  “It’s fine.”  A thought occurs to her.  “Can’t you hear?”

 

A strange sadness flickers in his eyes, here and gone so fast Ella could almost think she imagined it.  “Your parents?”

 

“Yeah.”  Bitterness wells up in her throat, bringing a fresh surge of tears to her eyes.

 

“I can hear them, but I’m not listening.”

 

“You can do that?”

 

“It’s none of my business.”

 

Ella hasn’t told anyone about this awful week, but here under a tree in her backyard, freezing in her bare feet with an alien superhero standing over her, she finds herself practically tripping over her own tongue to get the words out.  “It’s so stupid;  Mom wants to move back to New York to be closer to her family but Dad wants to stay here; he keeps saying she just wants to ‘reconnect’ with her college boyfriend and Mom says yeah, maybe she does, because Mark will be more understanding and – and–"  Damn it, she’s been trying so hard not to cry any more in front of Superman than she already has.

 

He’s quiet for a moment, just looking at her.  That sadness is back, and this time Ella’s sure she’s not imagining it.  Then, “May I sit next to you?”

 

“What – oh.”  Ella sniffles, rubs at her nose.  It doesn’t help, so she turns her face away.  “Sure.”  

 

He does, settling on the ground near her.  He’s very warm and the ground is very cold and she has to try very hard not to lean into him.  She can’t help shivering a little.

 

He shifts beside her and something heavy and warm settles on her shoulders.   She starts, grabs at it.  It’s his cape.  She turns to him, eyes wide.

 

He smiles.  “You looked cold.”

 

“Yeah.  Yeah, uh.  Thank you.”  She cautiously pulls it further over her body, and when he doesn’t scold her, practically buries herself in the thing.  It’s smooth and comfortingly warm, and between the soft fabric and his quiet presence she can feel herself calming down.  “I just hate when they fight.”  She almost wipes at her eyes with the cape before she catches herself.

 

“I hate when people fight, too.”  

 

She glances over to see him looking down at her.  It’s getting dark out, but his eyes still show blue.  It’s kind of strange, but very cool.  

 

“I can’t promise you that everything is going to be okay.  I don’t know your parents.  I don’t know their lives.”  He stands up, and for an anxious moment she thinks he’s leaving, but he’s just moving to crouch in front of her.  He puts his hands on her shoulders and looks her in the eyes.  “All I can promise you is that you’re strong enough to handle whatever happens.”

 

His seriousness makes Ella feel weird in her stomach.  She looks down.  “You don’t know me, either.”

 

“I don’t.  But I do know that you’re stronger than you think you are.  Everyone is.”  He smiles at her, quick and a little sad, and squeezes her shoulders before he straightens up.  “Things might not be okay, but you will be.  I promise.”

 

“Wait!”  Ella scrambles to her feet, struggling to disentangle from his cape.  “You’re forgetting–"

 

“No, I’m not.”  He gently tugs her hands away and smooths the cape down over her shoulders.  “This is yours.”  He lifts into the air, grins at her.  “I’ve got more.”

 

She smiles back, just a little.  “Thank you, Superman.”

 

“Of course, Ella.  Be strong.”  He waves and is gone.

 

Ella takes a deep breath. Her foot still hurts, but she ignores it.  “Okay, Ella.  Be strong.”

 

She squares her shoulders under the cape and walks back to the house.

 

 

** 5\. Bruce   **

“I don’t remember calling you.”

 

“You called Nightwing, who called me.”

 

Bruce huffs.  “I called him because he argued at me for fifteen minutes straight last time I was in the hospital.  He wasn’t supposed to call anyone else.”

 

“Argued _at_ you?”

 

Bruce wants to squirm to make a point, but movement would probably be more painful than it's worth.  “I was at no point a participant in this argument.  It was a unilateral decision made by Nightwing and foisted upon me, and apparently upon you as well.”

 

“Considering the state your ribs are in, I’d say Nightwing had the right idea.”

 

“If I told you to stop x-raying me every time we see each other, would you do it.”

 

“No.”

 

“That’s what I thought.”  Bruce turns his face to Clark’s chest to avoid having his words snatched by the wind.  “I could have gotten back myself.”  

 

“Uh huh.  You would also have messed up your ribs even more, incurring further wrath in both Dick and Alfred.”  

 

Bruce does shift a little at that, annoyed.  The hand under his back tightens in warning.  Clark is not in the mood for a fight, then.  “Did Dick’s call interrupt something.”

 

“Yes, but he doesn’t need to know that.”  Clark looks at him.  His eyes are always somewhat disconcerting in the dark - they have a brightness of their own, like the sun that powers him somehow reflects from inside, and they don’t change colors under different lights.  "Bruce."  Clark taps his thigh, reclaiming his attention.  "I’m glad he called me.  I was glad to come.  Don’t tell him.”

 

“I won’t.”  Dick might find out about this later, but it won’t be from Bruce.  “What did he interrupt?”

 

“Are you actually asking me a question about my life outside of work?”

 

“I have at least three cracked ribs; I’m entitled to a few questions.”

 

“That’s not at all how this works, but I’ll humor you and your cracked ribs.  I was having dinner.”

 

“With Lois?”

 

“Yes.”  

 

“Good."

 

“Not that I need your approval for anything-“

 

“A state of affairs I’m extremely well acquainted with.”

 

“-but I certainly wasn’t expecting to get it with this.”

 

Bruce doesn’t like Clark’s incredulity.  He blames his aggravation and the pain he’s in for his next admission.  “She makes you happy.”

 

Clark’s surprise shifts to something softer.  Bruce likes it even less.  “Why, Bruce, I didn’t know you cared about my happiness.”

 

Definitely his ribs.  “You’re less irritating when you’re happy.”

 

“Uh huh.”  Clark is grinning now.  Bruce always finds it very hard to hang on to his ire when Clark is smiling at him and he likes that least.  “I care about you too, Bruce.”

 

Bruce scowls.

 

Clark’s grin just widens.  “I don’t know if I’ve ever seen you act like I’m not irritating, though.  You’re pretty consistent”

 

An obvious change of a somewhat touchy subject, but Bruce is grateful for it nonetheless.  Clark can be pushy, but he’s always surprisingly tactful with other people’s hangups.  Bruce should know; he has a lot.

 

“I said less irritating, Kent, not entirely non-irritating.  You’re consistent, too.”

 

Clark laughs, and Bruce relaxes a little.  As much as he hates being picked up and carried by other people, he really hadn’t been looking forward to getting home with busted ribs.  Alfred will certainly appreciate it.  And he might actually finish work in time to spend some time with Dick.  Really, Clark is doing him quite a service.

 

Not that he’ll ever tell him that.

 

 

** +1. Lois **

 She finds him outside, on the balcony in the rain.  He’s forgone either of the two lawn chairs they set up out here in favor of cramming himself into the tiny space between them.  She crams herself in there beside him.  He’s soaked through and now she is, too.

 

He doesn’t say anything, and neither does she.  There’s nothing to say.  She just takes his hand and squeezes it, hard.  She can’t hurt him.  Not this way.  But she and the rest of the world forget, now and then, that there’s more than one way to be vulnerable.  

 

She can’t tell if he’s crying or not; the rain blurs everything.  Below them, a man runs from a cab to his apartment, holding a sodden newspaper over his head.  She can barely hear the cab’s engine as it drives away.  What is he hearing right now?  Can he hear screaming, or does the rain mercifully mute the world for him, too?

 

He’s squeezing her hand back now, just a little.  Careful, he’s always so, so careful.  They’re like filagree crystal to him.  Precious, priceless, but painfully fragile.  Like his heart.

 

She hates this world, sometimes, for what it does to him.  The way it breaks his heart over and over and still acts like he owes it something.  Acts like it owns him.  As if he hasn’t given a hundred times over what anyone else could or even would offer.

 

His head drops suddenly, halfway to her shoulder.  “Lois.”

 

She doesn’t tell him it’s okay, because it isn’t.  She doesn’t tell him it will be okay, though it will be.  She just pulls his head down the rest of the way, lets him lean against her collarbone.  Strokes his hair while he blinks tears and rainwater away.  

 

It’s slowing down now.  The rain will end and the sun will come out again.  

 

It is enough.

**Author's Note:**

> "Someday I'll write something decent at a decent hour", I say as I continue to post self-indulgent nonsense at terrible hours.  
> I don't own any of the characters; for better or worse they all belongs to DC. I also didn't edit a single word of this so if you guys catch any errors, please let me know!


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